Shattered Walls
by LittleD0ve
Summary: Tyrion arrives in Winterfell and finally has his reunion with Sansa after four years apart.
1. TYRION I

**So I'm an admitted SanRion shipper, so this story will be centralized on their relationship when he arrives in Winterfell with Dany and Jon. I'm kind of letting it take a life of its own while trying to stay true to the characters as we see them on the show with some book elements (where possible since we obviously don't have these books yet - COME ON GRRM). This will likely be pretty fluffy because I just love these two characters so much, but who knows what could happen? Comments are always appreciated! Happy reading :)**

TYRION

He can't say that he wasn't anxious about their impending arrival. After all, winter was here and with it, a war with an undead army. He had often imagined all the different ways that he could die, and being killed by supposed mythical creatures and rotting corpses was something that never crossed his mind. Surely, dying in the throes of passion or in his sleep was far more favourable than the fate than the one that most likely awaited him – all of them. Shaking his head to clear his mind from the terrifying thoughts, he drank down the rest of his wine and put the goblet down on the table in his cabin. He straightened his doublet, donned his cloak and made for the front of the ship. His queen and her new lover were already there, standing closer than would be appropriate for mere allies. Tyrion rolled his eyes and went to join them. Jon gave him a wry smile and nodded towards the shore.

"Welcome back to Winterfell, dwarf."

Tyrion smiled despite himself, remembering their first meeting in Winterfell so many years ago. It seemed like such a simpler time when he had first arrived. The events of that visit, however, had affected and ended so many lives. He looked up at his friend and replied, "Happy to be here, bastard King". Had it been anyone else, Jon would have surely reacted. As it was, he just laughed heartily and looked towards his childhood home. Tyrion caught a glimpse of his queen, smiling at Jon's apparent joy. He didn't exactly approve of this potentially dangerous relationship between those two, but he couldn't help feeling happy for his two of his closest friends.

Though he really did feel happy for them, it also reminded him of what he didn't have. Of what he had lost at least three times over. Tysha, Shae, Sansa… Did Sansa count? Tysha he had married for love, Shae he loved but could not marry, and Sansa he married out of duty and obligation – there was no real love between them. As he watched the shores of Winterfell approach, he thought back to his brief second marriage and sighed. Under different circumstances, maybe they could have been happy. _No, _he thought, _she never wanted me. Whether it be because of my appearance, my name, or her grief for her family she didn't want me. She would have been dutiful, as befits a noble lady, and courteous, but she never would have been truly happy married to me. _

Truth be told, he hadn't wanted her either. Yes, Sansa Stark's beauty was something of songs, and he would have thoroughly enjoyed the carnal parts of their marriage and having a gorgeous woman by his side, but he couldn't love her. Not really. Their marriage was the reason why he stopped seeing Shae. He felt responsible for this child wife and took his vows seriously. He wanted to protect her from pain and betrayal so he sent away his lover, the only woman since Tysha who really wanted him, unapologetically. He winced as he thought of her in his father's rooms. _Maybe she was a fine actress and nothing more. _

"What are you thinking about?" Daenerys interrupted his thoughts.

Tyrion's mouth twitched into a smirk and he replied honestly: "Marriage, your grace."

John snapped his head towards him, surprised amusement playing on his face. "Ah, so you're nervous about seeing my sister again" he teased.

Tyrion rolled his eyes again. "Why would I be nervous about seeing Sansa? Our marriage was nothing more than a living arrangement", he scoffed.

Jon looked laughed at his reaction. "No – you don't sound nervous about it at all", he replied before turning his attention back to the quickly approaching port.

Tyrion thought about that for a moment. Alright so he was nervous to see her. Jon had told him about her second forced marriage to Ramsay Bolton and could only imagine the horrors that she'd survived. She had never told Jon any details, he had said, but going by the stories he'd heard and the statements of witnesses… No, he would not force her to remain married to him. She'd suffered enough and so had he. Maybe, once the war was over, they could both find happiness. He still cared for the girl, enough to want her to have some joy in her life. _Isn't that what everyone wants?_

"Anchors!" he heard someone shout. It was time to pile into the smaller boats that would finally bring them to shore. He followed the two rulers, accompanied by Missandei, Grey Worm, and Varys. Together they were rowed to the port of White Harbour. Despite her preference of dragon riding to horses, Daenerys expressed her desire to display a united front upon their arrival at the Winterfell gates.

A few hours later, the gates were within sight. _Thank the gods. My back is killing me._ He was relieved and very much looking forward to a hot bath, a hot meal, a warm bed, and of course, wine. The gate opened immediately as the guards recognized the Stark and Targaryen banners. Having clearly been warned of their arrival, there was a crowd of northerners gathered in the courtyard to greet the procession. John dismounted first, followed by Daenerys and finally the rest of their personal entourage. Tyrion dismounted and subtly shook his legs, which had lost circulation during the ride from White Harbour. He listened attentively while Jon greeted his bannermen and introduced them to Daenerys.

Tyrion couldn't replay the exact words that were spoken, distracted as he was by the tingling in his legs and the pain in his back. He politely looked on during the exchange and thought he was doing a fair job of pretending to pay attention. At first he looked only at his Queen as she spoke, and to Jon at times, but then he found his eyes wandering to the faces in the crowd. He was shocked to see who could only be Brandon Stark – a young man in a make-shift wheelchair who stared intently at his group. Next to him stood a shorter, gangly young woman with dark brown hair – Arya? He smiled at the return of the supposed dead Stark children. _Sansa must have been thrilled!_ He was surprised that his thoughts went first to her. He blinked to change his ideas and continued to look around. Many faces of strangers, of people he may have met in passing, and then – there she was.

He didn't know how he had not noticed her until that moment. She stood at the front of the crowd of spectators, the clear leader and head of the house. _Well, she's certainly not fourteen anymore._ Gone was the scared and timid girl he had married all those years ago. The person who stood before them was a strong, fierce looking woman. And woman, she was. Her softness was all but gone, replaced by a woman's curves and dangerous stare. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone quite so radiant. If she was beautiful before, there were no words that would describe her now.

She hadn't seemed to notice him until her heard his name. "Might I present my advisors; my lord hand, Tyrion Lannister, and my small council…" She continued to recite the names of the persons in her party, and as she presented him he had taken a few steps forward. Sansa had briefly looked at him and politely inclined her head at his introduction, quickly moving on to the rest. He was embarrassed to say that he was nearly wounded by her lack of recognition. _She's the Lady of Winterfell, clearly she cannot show more than simple courtesies, she has hardly welcomed Jon home, why would she pay any additional attention to her sham of a husband?_ He knew it shouldn't bother him, yet it did.

The final greetings completed, Jon dismissed the crowd and went to greet his sister. She smiled warmly and embraced him. Before she had let him go, the girl he assumed was Arya Stark all but jumped on her half-brother. "Jon!" A smile lit up Jon's face and his picked up his youngest sister and swung her in a circle. "I thought you were dead you whelp!" Arya giggled as Sansa smiled upon the scene. Jon put Arya down and made his way to Bran. Tyrion watched the four remaining members of the Stark family reunited and couldn't help but feel like he was intruding in a private moment. He looked up at Daenerys who also looked upon the scene with a smile on her face.

Remembering her manners, Sansa approached the queen and greeted her more personally. "The North is yours, your grace". The words were right, but her tone was nearly threatening. Daenerys smiled sweetly back and the young woman, who then called for servants to show the queen and her entourage to their rooms. "You will be tired after such a long journey". Daenerys thanked her and followed the servants into the castle, with a sideways look at her Hand.

Tyrion was about to follow the servants when he caught her eye. He was surprised to see that she was staring at him. _She's changed_. Gone was a meek, slender girl from the north that he had already respected and admired for her tenacity as well as her beauty. The person he gazed at now was a woman grown, who still had the same features as his northern bride, but whose coldness seemed to have increased. _I didn't know that could be possible._ He thought, coldly. Her face was passive, showing no emotion. He only read mild curiosity and acknowledgement on her face, nothing more. She didn't look away when their eyes met, but boldly held his gaze. He wasn't sure if he should go speak with her, she only stood about ten or fifteen feet away. As he made to leave, the lady of the house made the choice for approaching.


	2. SANSA I

SANSA

_There he is, in all his glory._ She eyed him out of the corner of her eye throughout the procession and while welcoming their queen. _Jon's Queen_, she corrected inwardly. She'd had mixed feelings about seeing her husband again after all these years. Did he change? Was he angry with her? Did he still want her? It made her nervous. _I didn't survive all of this just to become someone's property again. He may have been kind to me in King's Landing but I was still a child. Any qualms he had about bedding a young girl will surely be gone when he sees me now._ She watched him dismount and shake out his legs. The sight almost made her smile, but she didn't smile much anymore.

She wasn't blind or deaf; Sansa knew that men found her attractive. It was something she'd been told all her life and had always loved hearing. _The beauty of Winterfell, kissed by fire._ She thought she'd have her pick of any noble knight, maybe even a prince, thanks to her beauty. It used to be her favourite attribute about herself. Now, after having been completely broken by Joffrey and Ramsay, she wished she was as ugly as her first husband. Men would stop looking; stop talking about her like a piece of meat.

She didn't realize that she had been staring at him until he met her gaze. _Damn._ Neither of them looked away. It was as though they were trapped in each other's gaze. _I can't very well walk away now. _Not wanting to offend the queen's Hand, and also out of duty as the lady of the house, Sansa walked towards Tyrion. He appeared to be appraising her curiously, but not dangerously.

"Good morning, my Lord. Welcome back to Winterfell." She said, inclining her head politely.

He returned the bow to his hostess. "I thank you, Lady Stark, for your kind hospitality. It is wonderful to see you again. I was very happy to hear that you were alive and back in your home."

She allowed him a small, polite smile. "Yes. I'm very happy to be back where I belong. I was also joyed to hear that you'd escaped from King's Landing after…"

"After you left?" he interrupted. "Yes, I imagine you were thrilled to hear that your loving husband was alive and well." He said, with a mixture of irritation and regret. Seeing the stunned look on her face he sighed. "I believe this young man is waiting to escort me to my chambers. Goodbye, my lady." And he followed the servant into the castle, leaving Sansa speechless.

She stood there for a few moments, staring after him. She couldn't believe what he'd just said to her. _Well, I suppose that answers the question of whether or not he wants me, _she thought. She was relieved, but there was something else. Maybe a hint of disappointment? Perhaps it was just the fact that he'd rejected her so bluntly that hurt her pride. _I don't want him, so why should I care?_

Shaking herself free from her reverie, she went to find her brothers and sister.

She found herself in her chambers later that afternoon, soaking in a hot bath. _I imagine the servants will be especially busy with baths today_. She relaxed, letting the lemon-scented water calm her. She ran a cloth across her body, scrubbing herself clean. It had taken her a long time to start enjoying hot baths again, after her marriage to Ramsay…

She ran the cloth over her breasts and torso, examining the still-pink scars that ran across them. He'd been careful to keep her face pretty, but the rest of her body was a canvas of pink and white lines, spots, and puckers. He physical wounds had healed, but the memories lingered. Baths had been painful for many weeks after her escape, but after having found Jon again and reclaiming their home, and having received the care of Maester Wolkan, she had begun to find them nearly as enjoyable as they once had been.

She continued to wash and take thorough inventory of herself. He'd never cut off a finger or a toe, thankfully, so her body was whole. But he'd burned, bitten, cut, and beat nearly every inch of her. Even though the scars were painful reminders, they also served as proof of a lesson learned. No man, besides her family, could ever be trusted again. She would never wed again, and Jon knew it and accepted it. She'd suffered enough, he'd said, and he would never ask her to marry anyone for any reason of alliance or politics.

This had calmed her immensely when they had broached the subject, shortly after his appointment of King in the North. He'd held her as she cried for the last time and promised to look after her and to never let harm befall her again. Between Jon, Lady Brienne, and Arya, she'd had very few sleepless nights – especially once they'd dealt with Lord Baelish. She smiled earnestly to herself then. That was the third man who had a hand in hurting her, and the third to pay for it with his life.

Her mind eventually wandered to Tyrion then. She had to admit, she had no real ill will towards him. She thought back to their brief time together all those years ago and couldn't remember a time where he wasn't kind to her, besides a frustrated conversation about burnt pease. She actually chuckled a little at the memory. He'd been trying to break through her icy barrier for weeks and she would not open up at all. He'd been frustrated at her monotone, automatic responses and had finally snapped. She'd found it comical in hindsight.

He'd also defended her when Joffrey had been cruel, and tried to comfort her when she was hurting after the deaths of her mother and brother. She felt a small pang of regret for her coldness towards him. She had been hardly more than a child and her entire family was gone. She never loved Tyrion, it was true, but he had tried to be her friend. He hadn't even tried to consummate their marriage, even though it had been his right. She also knew about the pressure he'd been facing from his father when the whispers reached his ears. Even still, he maintained that he would never force her. She was thankful for that. She hadn't trusted him then, but perhaps she should have.

She dunked her head under the water one more time before finally stepping out of the now tepid water. She wrapped herself in a towel and called for a handmaiden to help her dress and do her hair. Her handmaidens were used to her scars by now and never reacted anymore. She remembered the first time that they had each helped her dress. It shamed her deeply and she'd felt their eyes burning into her skin. They'd been in her service for months now, however, and were used to the sight.

She'd chosen a dark grey gown with silver embroidery, one that she'd sewn herself over the past few weeks. Her hair was worn down with a few intricate braids on the back of her head. Satisfied with her appearance, she opened her chamber door and closed it behind her, beginning her walk to the Great Hall where a feast was prepared to celebrate Jon's homecoming. _And the arrival of the dragon queen, Sansa thought, bitterly. _She'd need to get to know her before she could come to agree with his decision to bend the knee.

She'd been so deep in thought that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and tripped over a loose stone. She struggled to find her footing and nearly fell down face-first when two hands gripped her right arm and pulled her back. She placed her left hand on her chest and waited for her heart to slow down. After a moment she took a deep breath and let a small laugh escape her lips and looked behind her to thank the person who'd saved her. When she didn't see anyone at eye level she looked down and was shocked to see Tyrion looking up at her, an amused smile on his face.

"You've gotten taller." He said, teasing.

She actually laughed a little and looked at her right arm pointedly, which he was still gripping. Looking a little sheepish, he let it go and clasped his hands behind his back. There was a brief awkward silence before she remembered herself. "Thank you for your brave rescue, Lord Tyrion. You faced the great risk of my large form falling on you."

He could tell she was teasing by the look on her face. He smiled and offered her his arm. "Could I escort you to dinner?"

She hesitated for a moment. _What will people say?_ That had always been her automatic thought. Then she remembered Jon's promise and the fact that she simply didn't care what people thought of her anymore. Let them think she's decided to remain married; it's none of anyone's business. She took his arm with a smile and they continued towards their destination.

"So," she ventured, "what's it like being the Hand to the dragon Queen?"

He snorted, amused. "Much like being the hand to Joffrey. A lot my ideas get ignored."

Sansa laughed, "I imagine you still prefer _this_ particular ruler to your nephew."

"I'd prefer _any_ ruler to my nephew."

They laughed together a little awkwardly until they reached the entrance to the hall. He winked at her as he left her there and went to take his seat next to Daenerys. She took her own seat next to Jon and stole a glance at Tyrion who was pouring himself a generous cup of wine. He caught her gaze and held up his cup in salute. She shook her head tolerantly and proceeded to pour herself some wine. She'd started drinking it not long ago and found its effects soothing.

The meal was a typical feast. Toasts were toasted, dances were danced, and food was eaten. Sansa sat in her chair and watched as her brother danced with the queen and led the other couples. The head table was empty, Bran having retired to his room for the night and everyone else either dancing or socializing. She was watching an extremely drunk man try to get a young lady to dance with him unsuccessfully when the chair beside her screeched loudly. She turned and saw Tyrion climb up and take a seat, goblet empty.

"Stupid happy fools" he slurred, not looking at her.

She looked at him for a moment before asking, "Who, all of them? Or were you thinking of some specific members of my house?"

"I _was_ talking about our new lovers", he said conspiratorially, "but I'll grant you that they're all acting like stupid, happy fools." He looked gloomily over the crowd, clearly drunk.

_Lovers, that's hardly a surprise. _She'd noticed how close they were and figured that there was something other than a simple queen/lord relationship. He was waiting for her reaction. She sighed and clasped her hands together on the table in front of her. "On that, my lord, we are in agreement."

He smiled at her again, "You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for, Sansa."

"I'm afraid I've been quite perceptive for a long time." She said, more to herself than to him before draining her half-empty goblet. She placed her empty cup on the table and sighed. "If you'll excuse me, my lord, I believe I'll retire. Good night."

A hand on her arm stopped her. "Perhaps you could join me for a walk, first?" His eyes were so kind and hopeful that she had a hard time saying no. She was also painfully aware that there were conversations that needed to happen between them. She just hoped he wasn't as drunk as he seemed.

That thought made her smile as she remembered his drunk-acting at their wedding. She nodded and let him lead her out of the great hall. They walked around the castle for a few minutes unspeaking before Tyrion stopped her. "I have no idea where I'm going" he said, a smile on his face.

Sansa laughed and took the lead. She led him to the kitchen, which was now long-abandoned, the dishes being left for the morning. She found a tray of lemon cakes and a pitcher of water which she placed on the counter before them. They each took a stool and sat together, drinking water and Sansa picking up a lemon cake.

"I see that some things haven't changed." Tyrion said to her.

Sansa nodded sadly. "I'm afraid that more has changed than not, my lord."

"I know. It looks like we've both turned into very different versions of ourselves through unfortunate circumstances." Tyrion replied, sadly.

Sansa only nodded, picking at her cake. "I owe you an apology; lord Tyrion, for my behaviour in King's Landing and for leaving you after Joffrey was killed. Perhaps if I'd stayed I never would have been forced to marry Ramsay."


	3. TYRION II

TYRION

Her words only surprised him a little. Jon had told him what he knew of his sister's marriage to the Bolton bastard, but he'd heard no details. Understandably, she hadn't told her brother anything more specific than the words "rape" and "beating", but considering what he did know about his preferred torture methods, he thought he had a basic understanding of the suffering she'd survived.

_Of course she'd prefer a husband who didn't touch her to a sadistic bastard like Ramsay._ He had to admit that it was good to hear her speaking her mind for once. He didn't think he ever had before. He'd only known her as the shell of the woman she would become; the girl who did what she had to do to survive.

He smiled weakly at her when she'd spoken. "No one can blame you for that, for either of those things. Your _behaviour_, as you put it, is what kept you alive and in one piece. Had you stayed behind after Joffrey's wedding, Cersei would have probably killed you."

"Sometimes I wonder if that would have been better." She'd hardly whispered it, but Tyrion had heard her and he was stunned. She'd stopped playing with her cake.

"You don't mean that." He said, shocked to feel how angry it made him. He wished he could kill Ramsay Bolton one thousand times over for the hurt he'd caused her. _Why? What is she to you, now? What was she to you, ever?_

Sansa looked at him and studied his face. "Don't worry, my lord. I'm not in any danger from myself. There were many days that I wished I would be dead, but having my family back in our home has made me at least a little hopeful for the future." Neither brought up the danger to the North just then; it wasn't important.

Deciding on trying for a lighter topic, Tyrion probed. "What do you see for your future? A handsome night or lord and a littler of babies?" he meant it to be lighthearted but he immediately regretted his words when he saw her face. "Sansa, I'm sorry. I just thought that was what you always wanted."

The look of disgust and nausea subsided, and Sansa said: "I will never marry again." Her tone had so much finality to it that there was no room for argument. Seeing Tyrion's face, she added with a sad smile, "I think two failed marriages are enough for me."

He smiled hesitantly and his words escaped before he could catch them. "Technically _our _marriage never failed." He meant for it to sound more teasing or smug, but somehow a twinge of longing was mixed in to it. It surprised him as much as it did her.

She studied his face for a few breaths, trying to formulate an answer. Her face held no shock, but he could tell that his words had caught her off guard. Finally she smiled at him and focused on her half-eaten cake. "I suppose you're right." She picked at a few stray crumbs, letting them crumble on to her plate. "It's all the more reason why I can't take a husband, nor bear any children."

"You wound me, my lady." Tyrion retorted with a smile, hand against his heart as though he'd just been shot. "And here I'd hoped for us to renew our vows and resume our passionate union." Clearly the wine had been strong this night.

She laughed in earnest. "Yes, I'm sure you've missed the long nights of silence and sleeping on a chair."

"What? Am I so small that you didn't notice me in the bed beside you?"

Together they started laughing to the point where they were snorting and crying. Just as one would start to calm they'd look at the other's face and the hysterics would start again. This went on for several minutes before they finally stilled, wiping tears from their faces.

"I do have to admit, my lord, that I _did_ miss your wit and humour." Sansa said warmly. "Under different circumstances, you may have even managed to make me laugh."

"I would have enjoyed that, I think."

Sansa snorted at that. "No you wouldn't have," she said into her cup of water. Then, seeing the look of confusion on his face, set it down and continued: "You can't tell me that Tyrion Lannister, the _God of tits and wine_, would have been happy in a marriage where he only made his wife _laugh_."

_She's got you there._ He cocked his head to the side, prepared to argue, then thought better of it. "You're not wrong about that, my lady. Though could I tell you a secret?" _What are you doing you drunken fool?_

She raised an eyebrow in answer, curiosity crossing her features.

He leaned towards her conspiratorially. "I've been reliving our wedding night for over four years." For most couples this would be romantic, or at least meant to be seductive in some way, but he knew she'd understand his meaning. How could she not?

She did look shocked then. He was amused to see that her mouth actually hung open, just slightly, but few things have ever entertained him so much as the look on Sansa's face at this precise moment.

Gathering her composure, Sansa cleared her throat. All she could say was: "Oh."

They were quiet for a while. Both lost in their own thoughts. He watched as she continued to pick apart her lemon cake and wondered what she was thinking. Had he taken their conversation to a point where they'd gotten too personal? It was, after all, what happened when you'd drunk too much. _If she was really that uncomfortable she'd leave._ He knew that was the truth. After all, she'd mastered that craft long ago. He was about to say that they should probably head back to the festivities when finally her head snapped up in decision.

"Why did you tell me that?" She asked. "Is it because I said I didn't want to get married again? Is this a trick?" She eyed him suspiciously, the ghost of her past swimming behind those beautiful blue eyes. She didn't seem angry, but she did look to be on the verge. _Of course she's learned to be suspicious of everything._

He looked down at his hands and sighed. "No, Sansa. I didn't tell you that as some ploy to get you into bed with me. I told you that because I've had too much to drink and because it's the truth. I have no expectations in regards to our marriage. I've gone this long without a woman in my bed, I'm sure I could survive the rest of my life this way if that be the will of the gods. And don't think that I'm not celibate by choice. I've had many offers and opportunities but I just… I just…I couldn't. I don't know why so please don't ask me, but I just haven't been able to lie with any woman since the day we were wed. Maybe it's a coincidence, maybe I've had enough sex to last me a lifetime already, or maybe it's because of duty, but all I know is that I just don't care about that anymore."

When he looked up at her again he saw that she was watching him solemnly. He swallowed and waited for an answer. Finally, she stood and straightened her gown. "If you'll forgive me, Lord Tyrion, I'm afraid I'm rather tired. Excuse me." And she swept out of the kitchens without so much as a backwards glance.


	4. SANSA II

SANSA

Her mind was racing as she made her way back the way they'd come. Instead of going back to the feast, however, she decided to go back to her chambers. She knew she was being unforgivably rude to Jon and their guests but she just couldn't handle being around them just then.

She undressed and put on her nightgown as soon as she'd shut the door behind her. She sat at her vanity and undid her hair, combing out her intricate braids and replacing them with a single plait that ran down her back. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time, thinking.

Her thoughts were so scattered. She'd been so sure in her decision to swear off marriage and everything that came with it. But after the time spent in the kitchens with Tyrion, she felt her resolve shaking. She need to get away to clear her mind before she did something foolish. _What is it about him?_ She rubbed oil onto her hands as she climbed into bed, thinking all the while about her strange encounter with her once-husband. _Is he just – husband?_ The intricacies and rules swirled around in her head until she finally growled in frustration and threw the covers away. She knew she'd never be able to sleep. With a sigh, she stood and sat at her desk, deciding to at least try and get some work done in her insomnia. Wrapping a knitted blanket around her shoulders for warmth, she picked up the ledger of food stores, trying once again to figure out how on earth they would feed everyone.

Mere moments later, when Sansa was finally distracted, someone knocked on her door. Arya poked her head inside and looked at her sister questioningly. "Sansa" she said, closing the door behind her and approaching her sister's desk, "what's wrong? I saw you leave with the Imp and when you didn't come back…"

Sansa smiled weakly at her sister. They'd grown very close in the weeks that followed their joint execution of Petyr Baelish and for that, Sansa was thankful. The way she could read her face was disconcerting, but she had nothing to hide from her anymore. Who else could she trust as implicitly as Arya? _Tyrion._ His name sprang unbidden in her mind and she had to blink away the thought before finally answering her sister. Arya had clearly caught the motion.

"Sansa, what happened with Tyrion?" She made her way over to one of the two leather-bound chairs and helped herself to some wine, her gaze never leaving her sister's face.

Sansa sighed and made her way to the other chair, the one facing her bedroom door. She sighed heavily and poured herself a glass too before answering. Taking a sip she looked at Arya with an amused expression. "Why don't you tell me what you want to say instead of making me repeat a conversation that you clearly overheard?"

Arya smiled at that. When she smiled, Sansa could see the small child who had left Winterfell with her all those years away. It made her happy when so little could. Putting her glass down and crossing her legs under herself, Arya looked her older sister square in the face and put her hands under her chin, making her look utterly impish. Sansa smiled. "I heard it. But I don't know anything about the time you spent together in King's Landing. You don't hate him, so he must have at least been kind to you." She studied Sansa for a second before continuing. "You never… ?"

Sansa rolled her eyes and took another drink from her cup. "You know we didn't."

"Good. I'm not sure his head would still be attached to his shoulders if he'd fucked you at fourteen." She said it without humour and Sansa knew she was serious. "I wish I could have killed Ramsay before you married him. Though I have to say, I admire your execution style." She said with a glint of admiration in her eyes and smile.

A wave of nausea rolled over Sansa, as it often did at the mention of her late husband. She hid her face in her wine and looked into the fire for a while. "There were times that I wanted to die. When I was locked in that room day in and day out I would think about Tyrion." Arya raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because up until that point, the last time I'd felt anything remotely close to safety was with him." Seeing Arya's doubtful expression, Sansa let a small laugh escape her lips. "I know what you're thinking. Even without the training of the faceless men, I know you think the idea of a man with Tyrion's… stature… keeping anyone safe is laughable but…" the smile remained on her face as she shook her head slowly and stretched out her legs, holding her goblet in both hands on her lap. "He was kindness itself. He defended me from Joffrey and his kings guard even before we were wed and once we were married I could feel his cloak on my shoulders all the time. For a time people would laugh. They'd snicker at the disgraced daughter who was punished with her marriage to the ugly imp of house Lannister, but after a few weeks they got over it and I was treated with more respect than I'd had since father was…" She swallowed hard and stared into her cup, the smile fading. "I felt like a traitor to our house for a long time when people started calling me 'My lady Lannister' or referring to me as 'Sansa Lannister' or 'Sansa Stark of house Lannister'… I hated that I was linked to that family, the ones who tore all happiness away from us." Sighing, she finally looked at her sister, eyes bright in unshed tears. "But with that name came some peace. Joffrey was still cruel to me, of course. But the lords and ladies no longer looked at me like a prisoner to be avoided. They still mostly ignored me but the tone was different… respectful…" She snorted at that. "As if any of that mattered, really. But I was so alone and I had no friends except for one. I was too young and blind to see it then."

Arya nodded slowly as Sansa quickly wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "I'm glad."

Sansa looked at her curiously. "Glad?" she spat back at her sister.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Obviously I'm not happy about what you went through. I know I never could have survived it, but I'm glad that you had at least one person on your side." She reached out and took her sister's hand in hers, squeezing gently. "I've been spying on him." She said after a breath, releasing Sansa's hand.

Sansa just rolled her eyes and smirked. "You say that as though it should shock me." Taking another sip of her wine she settled more comfortably in her chair. "So, tell me. What do you think of my former husband? What strange and dangerous activities has he been up to?"

"Is he?"

"Is he what?"

"Your _former_ husband."

Sansa straightened. "I don't know."

"Do you want him to be?"

Dodging the question, Sansa asked again: "Are you going to tell me what you found during your ridiculous spying?" She asked the question in a playful tone, but she knew Arya could hear the strain behind it.

Setting her glass on the table between them, Arya regarded her sister and straightened herself as her sister had. "Nothing, really. He's quite boring. Follows that queen a lot and stares at you when you're not looking, but not in a love-struck way. He looks at you like…" she thought for a moment, obviously trying to come up with the right example, "he looks at you like one would look at a direwolf, I suppose. Not scared, but careful and unsure, and certainly captivated."

That made Sansa a little uneasy. "What do you think he's thinking?"

Arya grinned at her. "Should I play the game of faces with him?"

"Tempting as that is, I think the direct approach may work just as well with Tyrion Lannister." Sansa replied with a laugh. "I suppose I'll have to speak with him again. We haven't had a chance to really talk about… whatever this is." She waved a hand in the air, demonstrating. "Preferably sober." She said, raising her goblet to her sister slightly and draining the contents of her cup.


	5. TYRION III

TYRION

Tyrion finally made his way back to the feast. It had taken him a while, but once he could make out the sounds of laughter and music he'd let the noise guide him. He had tried to follow Sansa when she all but ran from the kitchens, but she'd been too fast and he'd waited too long – stunned and stuck to his seat. He looked around the room, searching for the auburn hair, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Sansa and failed to hide his disappointment when he saw that he stood before his queen.

"Well, hello to you too, Tyrion." Daenerys said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Where have you been? Where is Lady Sansa?" She looked around the room as he had.

"I don't know."

She looked at him accusingly. "I saw you two leaving together, what happened?"

Sighing and suddenly exhausted, Tyrion replied: "Not here. Not now. If it please your grace I'd like to retire." Sensing he had something on his mind, she nodded curtly. He bowed to her and quickly found his way to the exit. He was making his way to his room when he suddenly had the feeling that he was being followed. He stopped and looked around, listening.

After a minute, he shook his head and continued walking, laughing internally at his paranoia. Just as he reached his door and was about to open it, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around quickly, his heart racing and his fists braced for attack.

He was met with a small giggle and the smiling face of Arya Stark, leering at him with an amused expression on her face. Putting down his fists, he leaned against his door and released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Lady Stark, you startled me." He said, smiling faintly.

"Scared you shitless, more like." She replied before leading the way into his chambers. Confused, Tyrion followed her, leaving the door ajar a little.

He saw her take a seat and help herself to the tray of nuts and dried fruits that had been left on his fire-side table. She relaxed into her seat and placed her boots on the table, eyeing him appraisingly. _What in seven hells is going on here? _"Can I… help you, Lady Stark?"

"First, I'm not a lady." She started, throwing a nut shell into the fire. "Second, I heard you talking with my sister earlier. I'd like to have a conversation, if you don't mind." Her expression froze him. There was an icy authority in her gaze that left no room for argument. _What happened to her these last few years?_

His mouth gone dry with the shock of her arrival, Tyrion took the opposite chair from his visitor and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. After draining the cup he nodded and said: "Ask me anything you like, I have nothing to hide." He tried to relax into his chair but found the girl's presence disconcerting.

She eyed him speculatively before starting. "I would like to know your motives when it comes to my sister." She stood then, wasting no time getting to the point. "I heard your entire conversation in the kitchens – you didn't think I'd let my sister go off alone with a Lannister, or any man for that matter, did you?"

"No, I imagine you wouldn't after all she's suffered."

"We've all suffered at the hands of your family." Arya added, coldly. "How do I know you're not just like the rest of them?"

"Well, there's the very obvious difference in appearance. Clearly I got the attractive genes." He offered with an attempt at humour.

She didn't laugh. "Why would you tell her that you haven't fucked anyone since your wedding? What kind of game are you playing at? You don't know half the horrors she suffered in Ramsay Bolton's bed and you can't possibly think that she'd invite you into hers."

Rage suddenly flared in his chest. "You think my grand plan is to fuck your sister? I'm sorry _my lady_ but you insult my intelligence and integrity. The reason why I told her those things were simply because we were having a drunken conversation and things you would rather keep inside tend to slip out of your mouth. Do you think she meant to tell me about her thoughts of suicide?"

Arya nodded. "Then what do you want?"

_Like I know._ "I want to survive this winter, just like everyone else with a pulse. Beyond that I'd happily live an unmarried celibate life until I die."

"You're lying." It wasn't an accusation. She stated the truth as simple fact as though telling a toddler that the sky was blue and snow was white. Tyrion gulped and avoided her eyes. "But I don't think you mean her ill will. You'll do for now, Imp." Without so much as a look in his direction she left his room, quiet as a shadow.

Tyrion let a shiver escape him. _There's something wrong with that Stark girl. _He did know what he wanted in his heart of hearts. It was the same thing he'd wanted since he first saw her for the first time. He poured himself more water and looked into the fire, contemplating his time with Sansa Stark.

The first time was on his terrible nephew's name day. She looked small and sad but still breathtakingly beautiful. He'd extended his sympathy for her losses and Joffrey had thrown dung all over it before she recited her practiced lines.

_I didn't know it then._

The second time she was half naked and in the middle of a brutal beating in the throne room at the command of her betrothed. His mouth curled at the thought of his vile nephew. _There's a special place in hell for that monster._ She was beautiful, even then. He'd seen her at Winterfell, of course, but he'd been thoroughly distracted and she had been no more than a child. The creature who took his hand that day was not a child. She'd suffered immensely at the hands of the boy she was meant to marry and his entire family and Kings Guard. She was young, yes, but she was not a child. The touch of her hand in his had been electrifying. He'd seen beautiful women before, but there was something in the haunted Tully-blue eyes that forever changed him. She'd walked off, proud as a wolf and he didn't think he'd ever admired anyone more.

_I didn't admit it then._

The day of the riot was exceptionally traumatic. He panicked when he saw that she was no longer with the group. He could have killed his uncaring nephew right then for telling the guards to let the crowd have Sansa. The minutes felt like days and despair tugged at him until he saw her over the shoulder of Sandor Clegane. He had no love for the Hound, but he'd never forget what he did for her that day. He ran to her and asked if she was alright but she was quickly whisked away by her handmaidens.

_I refused to admit it then._

Before the battle of Black Water Bay, she'd told him she'd pray for him as she would for the king. It was clear that she didn't mean it, she'd roped Tyrion in the other Lannisters and was blinded by her hatred of his family. He had Shae by then, she muted his feelings for the Stark girl and he truly loved her on some superficial level. He knew now that she was a good actress and a well-paid whore. He remembered her anger when he'd referred to Sansa as a _great beauty._ He hadn't been lying.

_I denied it then._

The day his father told him she had to marry him his heart shattered. It was more than he could have ever hoped for, yet a nightmare all the same. _She does not, and will never, want me._ He vowed that day that he'd do everything in his power to keep her safe and try to make her happy. Even if that meant sacrificing all that brought him joy. Her face when he broke the news to her destroyed him.

_I hated myself then._

The day they said their vows and he wrapped the Lannister cloak around her shoulders, he swore to look after her happiness and nothing else. He promised not to touch her, he promised to take care of her and protect her. He saw the disgust on her face and he knew it would be an impossible task, but he'd try until his death anyway. Their brief weeks of marriage were strained at best, and when she lost her mother and brother, any affection he'd earned from her was gone.

_My heart broke then._

The day of Joffrey's wedding and death, when he realized that he'd never see her again…

_I died then._

He hadn't noticed the tears falling until he saw the spots on his tunic. He angrily wiped his face and got up. He undressed and climbed into bed, haunted by his thoughts. After seeing his estranged wife again today, a part of him he'd locked away was blown wide open. All the feelings he'd pushed down for years for his then child-bride resurfaced and swallowed him like a wave in the ocean. She wasn't a scared child anymore. She was a beautiful woman who'd grown into her own. He could no longer reason away any coldness with her youth and naivety. She was a woman who'd been through hell and came back as steel forged in its fires. He couldn't deny it anymore.

_I loved her then and I love her now._


	6. SANSA III

SANSA

She woke the next morning to a note on her pillow. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned. She propped herself on her pillows and examined the paper. She didn't recognize the hand, but she was being summoned to Bran's chambers as soon as possible. She hastily ate and dressed and made her way to Bran's room which was only a few doors down from hers. To her surprise, she wasn't alone. Before her stood Bran, Jon, Arya, and Samwell Tarly. "What's going on? What's happened?"

They all turned to look at her. Jon looked like he was going to be ill and he stormed past her angrily. Dumbfounded, she looked at the rest of them expectantly. Arya just stared at the floor while Sam looked at her nervously. It was Bran who finally broke the silence. "Jon is not our brother."

He explained everything about their aunt Lyanna and her secret marriage to Rhaegar Targaryen and their secret son. Sansa couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But that means he's the true heir to the Iron Throne." She said after a few silent moments. "Who else knows about this?"

"No one does." Sam answered. "We wanted to give Jon the chance to tell Daenerys and to come to his own decision about his parentage." It was all too much for Sansa. She'd only just gotten her brother back and now the reality of their relationship was forever changed. She stood and left without ceremony, unsure of her destination.

She found her way down to the crypts, before the statue of her aunt Lyanna. She stared up into face while thinking about the implications of what she'd heard. _Jon doesn't want to be king of anything; he hardly wanted the North…_ She'd only truly known him for a few weeks, but she knew enough about her brother to know that he had no interest in ruling Westeros. _Cousin, _she corrected. The thought brought her up short. She'd been thinking about his birth right but she hadn't even considered the fact that he was very clearly in love with his… aunt? Yes, Daenerys is his aunt, she thought, trying to remember her history lessons with Septa Mordane. Jon's father was the queen's oldest brother Rhaegar. _At least they aren't twins; _ Sansa thought morbidly. She stood in the crypts for a long time, lost in the features of her long-dead aunt, when she heard footsteps behind her.

Turning around she saw Jon stalking towards her, eyes cast downwards and oblivious to the fact that he wasn't alone. He jumped when he saw his companion standing in front of his mother. He smiled sadly at his once-sister. "So, what do I call you now? Cousin Sansa?" His attempt at humour was pathetic but she allowed him a small smile in response.

She squeezed his arm in support and turned back towards Lyanna. "I can't imagine how father felt, keeping this secret for so long from you, from us, from mother…"

Jon sighed beside her. "Aye. It must have been a heavy weight to bear. I'm alive because of him. Sire or not, Eddard Stark will always be my father." He stood straighter and gazed at the statue before him. "She's said to have been beautiful."

"Statues rarely capture the muse's true likeness." Sansa said in reply. "What will you do?"

"I suppose I'll have to tell Daenerys and let her decide. All I know is that I don't want the throne. I want no part of it…"

"But you still want her." She said, sympathetically.

"Like a true Targaryen." Jon said, with a laugh.

They stood there together for a while until Sansa turned to him. "You know you're still our brother, don't you?"

Jon smiled up at her and wrapped her in a hug. "I don't care if my father was Tyrion Lannister, you'll always be my sister."

The mention of his name made her uneasy and she pulled away awkwardly. Jon noticed it right away. "I saw you two leaving the feast together last night. Care to share?"

Rolling her eyes, Sansa started leading them out of the crypts and into the courtyard, picking a bench to sit on. Jon followed her and sat close to her, waiting. She told him about their awkward conversation in the kitchen and how she'd all but abandoned him afterwards. "I hope he isn't still lost in there." Jon said, laughing.

Sansa smacked his arm playfully. "Jon this isn't funny!" She whined. "I know we need to sit and have an actual conversation about the past and the future but..."

"What? You're not actually thinking about marrying him again, are you?"

"No. However the trouble is that I don't even know where we stand at this point. Are we married? Did my marriage to Ramsay annul it? Thinking about the possibilities just gives me a headache." She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with gloved fingers.

"Well, I can't answer your question, but I do know who can." Jon stood and extended his hand to Sansa. Cocking an eyebrow, she took his hand and followed him into the castle.

"I can't say that yours is a common problem" Sam began, "but I think we can piece it together." She was sat in the library with Jon and Sam, having just explained to him the precarious nature of her marriages. "Perhaps the most confusing part is that you technically were married under two different faiths, though that also simplifies it." Seeing the confused looks on his friends' faces, he shook his head and continued: "You married Lord Tyrion in the sight of the Seven, or the 'New Gods'. Per your and Tyrion's accounts, the marriage was unconsummated, making it easily dissolvable _if -" _Sam paused to make sure they were still following, "_if_ one or both of the married parties petitions to a High Septon."

Sansa was confused. "But Little Finger said that he had arranged the annulment himself. I never spoke to any septon after our wedding and I highly doubt Lord Tyrion did, considering he was either imprisoned or across the Narrow Sea."

Sam smiled at her understanding. "Right. Which would mean that you were still technically married to Tyrion when you were wed to Ramsay."

Sansa sighed. "Great. So I'm an adulterer?"

Jon took her hand in his. "You know that's not true. You did what was necessary to survive. No one can fault you for that. Surely your vows to Ramsay nullified the wedding contract between you and Tyrion."

"Well that's where it gets messy." Sam started. "You see, Ramsay and Sansa were married in the Godswood, in the sight of the Old Gods. Now while it's clear that you can't have two spouses at the same time, at least not in these parts of the world, the fact that she wasn't remarried in a sept of the Seven means that, while her marriage to Ramsay _was_ legal, it wasn't technically in breach of the first marriage."

They looked confused again. "Sam, what does that mean?" Jon asked, frustrated.

Sam tried again. "The point is, you had a horrible marriage to Ramsay within your existing, unconsummated marriage to Tyrion. But because the Gods or rules were two separate systems, that marriage didn't nullify your first marriage to Lord Tyrion."

Sansa didn't know how to react. She didn't know how she felt about this revelation. "So we're still married, then." She said flatly, her face and voice betraying no emotion.

Sam nodded. "And only a high septon of the Seven can dissolve it."

Sansa rose from her seat and thanked Sam for his help, waving away offers of help from Jon. She made her way back to her rooms and called for some wine. It was just past the time for the noon meal and she picked at the platter of food that had been left for her, sipping wine and thinking about what this revelation meant and how she felt about it.

_I need to tell Tyrion._ _But how? What do I say? _She knows he'd be no help, truly. He'd give her the choice. She smiled a little. All he'd ever done was try to make her happy. He'd probably live the rest of his life trying to do just that despite how terribly she'd treated him before. _Then what's the problem? We're still married; just tell him you want to be married._

She sighed and drank. She couldn't do that to someone. Yes, he'd try forever to make her happy. He'd devote his life to it, she was sure, as he had before in King's Landing. He'd be loyal to a fault and he'd ask for nothing in return. Not heirs, not even for her to share his bed. _That's no way to live. He deserves better._ _We both deserve happiness._

She thought back to their time in the Capitol. In those years he was the only person who ever stood up for her. When they married he tried to make her laugh, and sometimes managed to get a smile from her. He tried to break down her walls when they were as thick and high as the tower of joy. If she wasn't so broken, she'd find him and tell him that she wanted to be his wife again. But she was broken. She was scarred and changed. She couldn't give him what he'd want, which was wasn't much. She knew he just wanted love and she didn't think she could give him that.

_Mother and father didn't love each other at first._ Growling in frustration at her confusion over the matter, she stood up and walked to the door to the corridor. She grabbed the first servant who walked by. "Please tell Lord Tyrion that I wish to invite him to dine with me in my chambers tonight."

_There are two people in this marriage, after all._


	7. TYRION IV

TYRION

He couldn't believe what his queen had just told him. _Jon Snow is really Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark._ The queen had just heard it herself from Jon. They'd met just moments before and she looked surprisingly calm. "_He doesn't want the Iron Throne and we don't care about our apparent relation. Targaryens often wed brother to sister, what's an aunt to a nephew?"_ He'd accepted her decision but was still blown away by the revelation.

It had been just past dinner time when he finally made it back to his chambers. Just as he reached the door, a serving girl rand by. "My Lord, I've been looking for you for hours! The lady Sansa has invited you to dine with her in her rooms." Looking out the windows he saw how dark it already was and cursed inwardly.

"Thank you." He said, not bothering the change his clothes or even look in the mirror. _Fuck._ How late was he? Surely it was at least an hour past the time he should have arrived. He finally reached her door and knocked three times.

"Come in."

He pushed open the door and found Sansa sitting at her table, a platter of untouched food placed between two place settings. He'd expected her to be angry or annoyed but she just smiled teasingly. "You're lucky I remembered that you were often late for meals. I'm glad to see some things haven't changed. Sit." She said, motioning to the chair across from hers.

He closed the door behind him and walked to the table to join her. He studied her as he took his seat. She was dressed comfortably in a light blue wool dress, much simpler than the one she'd been wearing the previous night but of course, there was no grand feast. Her hair was in a simple plait down her back and she wore no jewelry. He smiled sheepishly at her when she offered him some wine. He nodded and she poured them each a generous cup.

She served him some mutton, pease and corn, and there was a sideboard of cheese and dried fruit to pick from. They started eating silently when Sansa looked at him, an amused look on her face. "I trust your pease aren't burnt my Lord."

His head snapped up and he looked at her, smiling. _She remembers that?_ They both laughed before he answered. "No, my lady, they're cooked to my liking. You know I'd yell if they were." They maintained eye contact as they laughed together, turning an awkward moment into a nearly nostalgic one.

"Are you curious about why I asked you to join me tonight?" Sansa asked between mouthfuls.

"I suppose we haven't had a chance to discuss this new development." He said, grabbing his goblet.

"Sam told you?" Sansa asked, surprised.

Tyrion was confused. "No… Daenerys did. She said she'd spoken to Jon about it and, as her hand, she felt it was something I should know. I'm inclined to agree."

Sansa put her fork down carefully but annoyance was clear on her face. "And? What do you think?" Her eyes bored into his.

Copying her, he put his fork down and put his hands together, thinking. "Well, I've only just found out so I haven't had much time to think about it but I suppose we just have to accept it."

She did look surprised then and swallowed loudly. She took another drink of wine and looked at Tyrion, appearing unsure about her next words. "Oh." _She wasn't expecting that answer._

"Oh?"

She licked her lips to wet them. "I just thought you'd need more time to… to decide. It's been so long and I was so..." shaking her head from her thoughts she took a deep breath and straightened her back. "You're being very gracious. Most men would have turned their backs and never looked back." She smiled politely and resumed her meal.

"It was shocking, to be sure, but I don't think this will affect her ability to rule." He was relieved that this strange conversation was over and continued eating.

Sansa stopped eating again and looked at him, clearly lost. "What are you talking about?"

Now it was Tyrion's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I asked you first."

_She has to know already, surely Sam and Jon would have told her before Jon told Daenerys. _"I'm talking about Jon's true parentage and the resulting incestuous relationship between him and his aunt. Isn't that what you were talking about?"

Sansa let an uncomfortable laugh escape her lips. "No, my lord, that is not what I was talking about." She was clearly embarrassed and poured herself more wine, not meeting his gaze.

"Are you planning on telling me what it is you were talking about? Why am I gracious? What should I be turning away from?" _Seven hells, is she drunk?_

"Not sober." She answered, draining her second cup.

When she reached for the pitcher he grabbed her hand to stop her. He didn't let go until she met his eyes. "Sansa, tell me what's going on." That seemed to harden her resolve and she nodded, taking his hand in hers.

_Gods, she's beautiful. _He still felt the pain from the night before. When he finally admitted to himself that he loved her, and that he always would. His heart hurt more with her proximity but he couldn't make himself leave. If this was all the time they'd have together, he'd take it, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

She took a deep breath and visibly forced herself to look into his eyes before she spoke. "I spoke with Samwell Tarly about our situation." Tyrion nodded his understanding of what she meant and she continued. "It's all very confusing and I won't try to explain it but I'll be here talking all night but the point is – " she paused, taking another breath to settle her nerves, "the point is that me marrying Ramsay didn't annul our marriage." When he didn't answer right away, she added: "We're still married."

_Oh._ He smiled at her then. "Yes. Well, I can't say that I'm shocked. You were married under two separate faiths."

She rolled her eyes but seemed relieved. "Of course you would have already figured it out. Here I am worried about your reaction."

"Why?"

"I suppose I thought you'd feel trapped. It's not like the North is rich with septons who could annul our marriage."

_Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't – _"What if I don't want it annulled?" _Fucking idiot._ He didn't know why he'd said it. Maybe it was a mixture of his fresh feelings come to light and the looming sense of impending doom with the march of the undead, but he felt the need to just be honest with her.

Their hands were still joined and he didn't let go. _Not yet._ She wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking at their hands and she was deep in thought. It felt like hours to him. He'd laid his heart between them and she was holding a knife over it.

He knew his face betrayed him. He wouldn't insult her intelligence by trying to talk about politics and alliances. He could feel the burning love and desire clear on his face and he wasn't going to spend another four years denying it. When she looked up and met his eyes he could see his heart reflected back to him.

"Then I suppose that means we're man and wife." She said, solemnly. Then she gave him a small smile before letting go of his hand.

"Sansa," he began, "if you don't want this, I will help you get this annulment. But you asked me what I thought and now I've told you." She continued to look at him, her expression soft and pensive as he spoke. "I don't want anyone else. I won't have anyone else." He concluded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"I don't want an annulment."

That did surprise him. "Oh."

"Oh?" She said, teasing. He smiled at quick witted jab and took his goblet in his hand.

"I won't lie to you Sansa. I'm surprised. After our conversation last night I thought you were angry with me. I certainly didn't imagine that I wouldn't have to try to sway you into marriage." He said, joking.

She nodded, finally allowing herself another glass of wine. "I wasn't angry with you. I was confused and you had shaken my resolve. I thought I knew what I wanted; what I didn't want. And then you show up and stir up all these feelings."

"And what feelings might those be?" He wasn't asking sarcastically as was his usual defense mechanism. He would waste no time with games, not this time.

Her eyes were wet and she let a tear fall on her cheek. She made to wipe it away when he stopped her hand. He didn't remember standing, but suddenly he was standing next to her. He let go of her wrist and wiped away the tear with his finger. He took the chair next to hear, abandoning his meal and took her hands in his, urging her to speak.

"Before Jon and I won Winterfell back," she began, "the last time I felt anything close to safety was when we were married. You protected me when you could, you defended my honor, and despite my attempts to push you away you tried to make me happy, to comfort me. Since I've been home I've been surrounded by bannermen who are as fickle as whores and the only family that I have left is unrecognizable. These walls have ghosts. Nearly everywhere I go I can hear him. In the courtyard I can still see the bodies he flayed. I know I'm safer now than I've ever been since the day I left my home, but I don't _feel_ safe." She squeezed his hands and looked at him pleadingly. "Tyrion, I cannot promise you my heart, and I can't tell you that I love you, but I can promise that I will do my best every day to be a good wife to you. I'll be your friend, your partner and I will share your bed."

He'd started shaking his head, about to tell her that his promise to her still stood when she stopped him with her hands on his face, holding his attention. "I am not fourteen anymore and I am not a maid." He winced at that. Taking her hands off his face and into his hands again he sighed.

"I know you're not, and I will never hold that over your head. What happened to you was not your fault and I need you to know that I don't think any worse of you because of it. If anything, it only makes me admire you more. The strength you have inside you is a force to be reckoned with and I am honored that you've accepted me into your life." She leaned in before he could stop her and she kissed him softly on the lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but there was genuine feeling behind it. She pulled away and gave him a smile.

"I'm not saying it's going to be right now. But I want you to know that you won't be celibate forever." The look in her eyes and the husk in her voice stirred up a feeling inside him that he hadn't felt in years. It took all of his restraint not to grab her head and pull her down to him. He gulped hard and returned her smile, albeit a little shakily.

"We don't need to discuss that tonight." He said, struggling to pull away. "Let's get to know each other." He took a step back and extended his hand to her. Smiling, she let him lead her to the chairs by the hearth.

The talked well into the night, Sansa telling him stories about her childhood in Winterfell and Tyrion telling her about his adventures in Mereen and how he'd freed two of the dragons who were chained in the catacombs. They laughed and drank until nearly dusk when Sansa started yawning. Tyrion stood and stretched. "Perhaps we should try and get some sleep before the rest of the castle wakes."

Sansa nodded and started to undo the laces of her gown. Tyrion made to look away when she laughed. "Can you help me? I've had too much wine." She pouted hilariously and Tyrion cracked a smile, making his way towards his wife's vanity.

"Sit." He ordered. She sat on the bench and he went to work on the laces going down her back. He couldn't help but brush her skin with his hands and his breath caught in his throat. He slowly pulled the dress down over her shoulders and looked at every mark.

"I'd forgotten about those." Sansa said, exhausted. She turned around and looked him in the eye. "I'm broken." She said, laughing. She laughed until tears streamed down her face and then her laughter became sobs. She fell onto him and he just held her in his arms. He stroked her hair and whispered in her ear that everything would be alright, that she was safe, that she was beautiful.

"Sansa look at me." He waited until her eyes met his before he continued. "You're beautiful and you're strong and you're… you're _mine_." He didn't know if it was the wine or their mixed exhaustion but he couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled her wet face onto his and kissed her, deeply and passionately. She wrapped her arms around him and tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.


	8. SANSA IV

SANSA

The sound of her handmaiden starting a fire in the hearth woke Sansa up from her slumber. She opened her eyes and was met with bright rays of sunlight peeking through her window. _What time is it?_ Her head felt like it was made of lead and she complained loudly into her pillow. She froze when she heard muffled laughter coming from somewhere beside her – on the bed. She slowly turned her head towards the direction of the laughter and was shocked to see that Tyrion was laying there with an impish grin on his face. Her astonishment must have been clear on her face because his smile turned into laughter.

"I should have warned you that you should never try to keep up with me when I'm drinking. It's not a contest that you're likely to win." When her expression didn't change, he snorted, leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead before climbing out of bed and splashing water on his face. Sansa studied him all the while. He was wearing the shirt he'd been wearing the night before and his trousers. _That couldn't have been very comfortable to sleep in._ Suddenly her memories from the previous night came flooding back. She allowed herself a smile and put her head under her pillow to block out the light.

_She'd welcomed his kiss at her vanity and, after a moment, had returned the kiss in earnest. She'd tangled her fingers in his hair and felt a tensing in her belly and a heat between her legs that made her pull his body towards hers. He'd slowly teased her lips with his tongue until she'd opened her mouth to welcome this new sensation. No one had ever kissed her like _that_ before. The hands he had placed on her had moved gently down to her neck, fingers soft and gentle as butterfly kisses. The sensation sent wonderful chills down her back and she let out a deep sigh._

_ She'd been ready and willing to take him to her bed and to seal their marriage after all these years apart. She couldn't think of anything she would rather do in that moment. To her dismay, he pulled away, keeping his hands in the spaces between her neck and shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes and she could see only one thing in his. Desire. He wanted her and she knew it. She tried to resume the kiss when he'd stopped her._

_ "No… not like this."_

_ Her first instinct was to feel angry and rejected, but she knew he was right. They were both very drunk and very tired. Reluctantly, she'd nodded. Wiping away the tears that still lingered below her eyes she'd smiled and stood, moving towards the bed and pulling back the covers. She really was exhausted. _

_ "Good night Sansa, I'll see you tomorrow? Or – later today, I suppose." He said, smiling and heading for the door. _

_ "Where are you going?" _

_ He'd turned around, confused, hand on the latch. "To my rooms, to sleep for a couple of hours."_

_ "I thought we'd agreed that we were married." She pulled the covers on the other side of the bed and patted the spot beside her, inviting him to join her. "Don't worry, I won't attack you." She said, teasing, a smile playing on her face._

_ He'd smiled sleepily and nodded, taking off his vest and boots. She hadn't paid attention to what else he was taking off, still feeling a little awkward despite their mutual understanding. She had closed turned around and blown out the candle on her bedside table, the one at their dinner table long since burnt out. The only remaining light came from the embers in the hearth and the short candle on the other side of her bed. _

_ She was surprised at how quickly she relaxed when she felt him climb into the bed next to her. He'd quickly blown the candle out and rested comfortably beside her. She turned towards him and gave him a kiss on the lips, soft and sweet. He'd placed a palm on her cheek and returned her embrace. They stayed like that for a spell, his hand on her cheek and her hand on his chest. _

_ She didn't remember anything after that, so she must have fallen asleep that way. _

The thought made her smile and blush like a girl. Feeling a weight return to the bed, she peeked out of the pillow and saw her husband sitting there, a playful smirk on his face. "Sansa, would you like some tea?" Her head finally emerged and she nodded, painfully. He already had the cup in his hand and it smelled blissfully like peppermint and licorice. She sat up straighter and gratefully took the cup from his hands.

"Thank you." She took a sip on the hot liquid and breathed in its fumes. "Aren't I just the blushing bride you've always wanted?" She said, teasing, brushing her hair out of her face with her free hand. "I must look absolutely ridiculous." She attempted, with little success, to fix her hair but could tell that it was pointless.

His answering smile was gentle. "I don't believe I've ever seen a more beautiful morning." He leaned in and their lips met softly. It awoke the same feelings she'd felt the night before. _So it wasn't just the wine. _When they pulled apart, her cheeks were burning and her breath came a little faster. Trying to appear nonchalant, Sansa merely smiled sweetly and replied: "I have to admit that this has been a nice way to start my day." Tyrion smirked, then got up and stretched.

"It must be rather late. I'm sure we're expected somewhere" he said.

Sansa looked towards the window again and nodded. "It's definitely after breakfast but we still have a couple of hours before the noon meal." Sighing, she took another sip of tea. Her head was pounding and she did not feel well at all. _Lesson learned, indeed._ She finished the tea and slowly got out of bed, making her way to her closet to find a gown. She picked a navy coloured dress and set it on her bed, making her way to her dresser for some stockings and small clothes. She was very aware of Tyrion's eyes on her. "Don't you need to change?" She asked with a smirk, turning to face him.

"I rather think I'd enjoy watching you dress much more." He returned, with an impish grin on his face. In mock indignation, Sansa picked up a cushion off the floor and tossed it at his head. He dodged it surprisingly easily and made his way to the door. "Alright, alright I'm going!" Just as he reached the latch he turned, remembering. "I… don't know if you noticed that your handmaiden saw us…" he didn't finish his sentence but waited for her reply.

"Let them talk. The first place we're going to this morning is the Great Hall where we will seek out Jon and Daenerys and tell them of our wish to be married." She said, decidedly.

This seemed to provide Tyrion with immediate relief. "Well, we're already married, my lady. I suppose we'll just be telling them so."

Sansa shook her head and remembered the dream she'd been having right before she woke up that morning. At first she thought she was reliving her wedding night to Ramsay.

_She was walking down the snowy path to the Wierwood tree, the way guided by lanterns. This time, however, someone was holding on to her arm. She turned her head to the left and was surprised to see her father smiling down at her. She smiled and tears ran down her cheeks. She looked in front of her again and saw all of them. Her mother greeted her, her hand touching her cheek gently and smiling proudly at her. Robb stood nobly beside her, trying hard to hide his emotion. He reached out and squeezed her arm and gave her a warm, encouraging smile._

_The snow was falling all around her, just as it had before, but this time she was filled with warmth and happiness instead of fear and dread. She stopped before the Weirwood tree and she saw Jon, Bran, and Arya standing with the rest of her family. Her heart was bursting for the joy the sight brought her. Her father kissed her on the head, let go of her arm and went to stand by the white red-leafed tree, prepared to perform the wedding ceremony. _

_He smiled once more at his eldest daughter and nodded his approval. Instead of speaking the words of the ceremony, however, he reached for her hand. She gave him her right hand without hesitation. He squeezed it once and said to her, "Be happy, Sansa." before placing the hand of Tyrion Lannister in hers and finally letting go._

"We were married under the faith of the Seven and had a terrible wedding night." Tyrion looked at her as she spoke, looking unsure of where she was going with her thoughts. "I'd like for us to say our vows again, under the Weirwood tree, with the blessing of the Old Gods." He didn't answer her right away, but a smile slowly crept up on his face.

"That sounds… perfect. Are you sure Jon will approve?" Concern creased his brow.

"I don't see why he wouldn't. We're already married, this is just…" she thought of the right way to put it. "This is just for us." She finished simply. "Both times I was wed it was for someone else's plan. I was a pawn and a bargaining chip. I had the beautiful gowns and the jewelry but I didn't have _this." _She walked over to where he stood by the door and knelt down to his level. "I don't need a feast, or dancing, or expensive jewels or gowns… All I want is us, our family and friends, and that Weirwood tree."


	9. A WEDDING

**Heeeeere's the wedding! Super fluffy. I didn't know much about the wedding traditions beyond what we saw during Sansa and Ramsay's wedding on the show, so I filled in some blanks. Enjoy :) **

A WEDDING

Jon was shocked to hear the words that came out of Sansa's mouth, but had little to say about the matter when Daenerys stood and gave her blessing to the couple. Once Jon recovered he looked at his sister, for she would always be his sister, and asked: "Are you sure about this? This is what will bring you happiness?" She'd nodded, her genuine joy clear on her face.

The castle was all abuzz with the news and, despite Sansa's declaration of wanting no grand wedding, everyone was preparing for a feast and arranging for musicians to come and play. The wedding was to take place the next night, a welcome distraction from the lingering threat from the north. Bran had assured them that they had exactly one week until the dead were on their doorstep. What better than a wedding to distract and bring a few stolen moments of enjoyment?

_Sansa_ was whisked away by a few ladies who scrounged together to find white fur to make Sansa a gown fit for a true Northern Lady. Daenerys had donated one of her own white fur dresses for the occasion as well, softening Sansa's heart for her a little. Measurements taken, she was shooed out of the room, the women insisting that the final product be a surprise. Sansa was overwhelmed with the response of her news. She'd expected everyone to be angry with her for her decision to be married to a Lannister. Instead they'd celebrated her happiness after all she'd suffered and welcomed the chance for a party.

The hall was being filled with candles and a clean path was being shoveled to the weirwood tree, lanterns placed at every foot as was the ritual. She could hardly believe that she would be a newly married woman again, in a sense, in just one more day. The thrill she felt when she thought about that still surprised her sometimes and she would think back to the first months of their marriage. _Oh, how far we've come._

_Tyrion_ was all nerves. He knew Sansa meant what she said about not wanting a large or over-the-top wedding, but he still wanted to make sure that every detail was perfect. He asked Podrick for help with picking out the right attire for the occasion, finally deciding on dark grey fur for his black cloak. He'd wear mostly black and grey, as was the Northern custom. He spent a large part of the day with Sam, going over the ceremony and learning the words. He also arranged for a step stool to be placed in front of the tree in advance, not wanting a repeat of their first wedding. Finally, when evening fell, he retired to his chambers weary but happy.

Despite their excitement for the next day, both were so tired that they fell asleep almost immediately, almost as though someone had dosed them with dream wine... The next morning, the castle was in utter chaos.

_Sansa _woke to insistent knocks on her door. The second she opened it, five women rushed in, Arya, Brienne and Daenerys included, carrying a bathtub, hot water, combs, jewels, and what Sansa imagined must be her dress covered in a sheet. She smiled as she got into the hot, lemon-scented water and let herself get pampered. They washed and combed her hair, filed and polished her fingernails, and let her soak while they laid out a large breakfast for all of them to share.

When the food was ready, Sansa got out of the tub and put on a thick robe lined with fur and her slippers to keep the chill away. Her hair, still damp, rested loosely on her back. She enjoyed the time she spent with her sister, her friends, and even with Daenerys. Once they'd finished eating, the queen cleared her throat.

"Lady Stark, would you permit me to give you a wedding gift?" she asked, a smile on her face as she handed a box to the bride. Sansa smiled back politely and took the box that Daenerys was holding out to her. It was a simple, small oak box with a brass latch. She opened it and inside was a beautiful set of earrings and necklace. The necklace was a delicate silver chain that held a single aquamarine stone, and the earrings were made in the same fashion, with small silver hoops and a small aquamarine in each one. Her mouth hung open a little at their simple beauty.

"Thank you, my queen. They're absolutely perfect." She said with a genuine smile. She took the earrings out of the box and put them on, when she pulled the necklace out, the queen stopped her.

"Here, let me." Sansa gave her the chain and moved her hair out of the way. Once the necklace was safely in place, Arya gave her a box.

"Me next." Sansa took the package, which was wrapped in a cloth, and opened it gingerly. Unsurprisingly, there was a small knife and leg holster staring at her from the piece of fabric. She looked at her sister with a disapproving look. "You never know when you might need to defend yourself." She shrugged.

Sansa laughed and put the gift on the table next to her. "Thank you, Arya, truly."

She also received a white silk nightgown, which was clearly _not_ meant for sleeping from one of the banner men's wives, a bottle of scented oil from her handmaidens, and a gorgeous knitted blanket of soft wool from Brienne. She thanked them all earnestly and they spent the morning chatting and eating, and talking about the upcoming ceremony.

_Tyrion_, meanwhile, was walking around the castle, making sure that everything would be perfect for that night. His wife deserved the world and he would do everything he could to make this day as close to her wildest dreams as possible. He practiced the words to the wedding ceremony, visited the path to the weirwood to ensure every detail was immaculate, and finally, after his noon-day meal, made his way to see Gendry at his smithy to check on the rings he had commissioned.

He ate a sparse meal in the late afternoon, being too nervous to eat. When evening was upon him, he called Podrick over to help him dress. While applying the finishing touches on his outfit, Tyrion grabbed the squire's hand. "Pod, thank you." The boy smiled as Tyrion continued. "There has never been a more loyal squire and there is no one I would rather have by my side as I say my vows tonight." Podrick's smile turned into a full-out grin then and he wrapped his little master in a bear hug.

Laughing, Tyrion patted him on the back. "Well, I suppose this is as good as it's going to get." He said, gesturing to his form. "Do we have any…" he was interrupted by Podrick quickly placing a goblet in his hand. "…wine" he finished, stupidly. "You really are the best squire a man could ask for."

"A toast: to a long and happy marriage." Podrick raised his glass as he spoke his short toast. Tyrion raised his goblet happily and drained its contents.

"I better not start by being late." He placed to goblet down on the table and took a deep breath. "Shall we?"

_Sansa_ had spent a lovely day with her ladies, and was nervously excited when she saw the sun was setting. Once they'd eaten a small meal, she was rushed over to her vanity where two of her handmaidens went to work on her hair, braiding intricate shapes to the top of her head in a sophisticated and modern, yet still very Northern, up-do. Once they were satisfied with their work, they turned to the most important part.

The excitement was palpable as one of her handmaidens made her way over to Sansa's bed to finally present Sansa with her wedding gown. They told her to close her eyes as they disrobed her and dressed her carefully. Finally, when all the details were deemed to be in place, they had her stand in front of a large mirror that hung by the door and told her to open her eyes. To say she was pleased was an understatement.

The gown was ivory in colour, where they'd found the lace and silk she didn't know, but they'd placed a layer of silk over a soft white woolen skirt, and had used the same fabric to cover the wool that went all the way up to her bodice. Lace was sewn into the collar of the bodice, which accentuated her cleavage in a very tasteful, yet desirable way. The bottom of the gown was embroidered carefully with silver thread in gorgeous swirls and leaf patterns, seeming to mimic the wind. She was speechless. The necklace and earrings she wore were a perfect match. They had used the white fur that Daenerys had donated to make a floor-length cloak which was fastened in a criss-cross pattern across her chest, accentuating her breasts even more.

"Ready?" Arya asked, smiling despite herself. Sansa nodded and everyone left her room, followed lastly by the bride. "You nervous?" Arya asked as they made their way outside. Her hair had grown out a little past her shoulders and she'd chosen to wear in down with two simple braids connecting in the back of her head. She'd not worn a gown, but did wear a splendid sky-blue tunic with black leather pants. She looked most becoming and truly, a dress would have looked odd on her.

"A little" she said, smiling to her little sister. "But I know what I want." Nodding decisively, she took Sansa's arm and they walked together to the forest. It didn't take long for Sansa to notice the candlelit path. When they finally reached the first row, Arya handed her off to Jon, who Sansa had asked to give her away. He'd looked as though his heart would burst at the honour when he'd accepted.

With a wink, Arya ran ahead to join the rest of the invited guests. Sansa took another deep breath and looked at her brother. He smiled warmly at her and squeezed her arm as he said: "It's not too late to change your mind." She laughed a little at that. "My mind is made up." And with that, they began the walk to the weirwood tree.

It had been a beautiful, blue-sky day, so Sansa was surprised to see snow falling gently. _Father, mother, Robb, Rickon… they're all here._ She had to hold back the urge to cry. The walk was peaceful and quiet, and before long she saw familiar faces. Friends, bannermen, Brienne, Bran, Arya, all gathered to witness their wedding. She saw the appraising looks of the women in attendance and the jaws of certain men dropping as they eyed her gown. It was a tad more revealing that typical Northern wedding gowns. But she was no typical Northern woman.

Finally she saw him.

_Tyrion _was standing in awkward silence by the weirwood tree. He was surrounded by Northmen and women who were still not too fond of the idea of their Lady willingly marrying a Lannister. He'd been looking at Podrick, worried that she'd changed her mind with the lateness of the hour, when he heard barely audible gasps from the attending crowd. His head snapped to the lantern-lit path.

His heart nearly stopped. The most beautiful woman in the world was walking towards him. Their eyes met, and the entire world melted away. She had looked glorious on their first wedding day, but tonight, with the people who loved her in attendance and in her home, she was nothing short of magnificent. He smiled proudly as he watched her, donned all in white and eyes only for him. Her gown was tightly fitted and he could clearly see the shape of a woman. It was vastly different from his wedding to a child.

Each step took achingly long, but finally she reached him. Clearing his throat, Sam took his place behind Tyrion. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

Jon spoke clearly and confidently, albeit with a small break in his voice. "Sansa of house Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, true born and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Tyrion smiled, unshed tears in his eyes. "Tyrion, of house Lannister, rightful heir to Casterly Rock and hand to the Queen. Who gives her?" Sansa never took her eyes off him as he spoke, emotion clear on her face.

"Jon Snow, of the houses Stark and Targaryen, her brother and cousin." Jon smiled warmly at Sansa as he spoke but she didn't notice. Her eyes belonged to Tyrion alone.

"Lady Sansa, do you take this man?" Samwell asked.

She'd hardly let him finish his question before she'd stepped forward and replied, "I take this man." A few laughs from the spectators made her blush, but she was not bothered by it.

"Lord Tyrion, do you take this woman?"

"Until my dying day." Tyrion answered simply.

"In the sight of the Gods, I do pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal this union with a kiss." Like clockwork, Podrick set the stool before Tyrion. But before he could climb it, Sansa knelt down to his level, knees digging into the snow. Heart fuller than he'd ever imagined possible, Tyrion grabbed his wife's face, and kissed her tenderly but passionately, eliciting whoops and cheers from Arya and Gendry.


	10. A SECOND CHANCE

**I changed the rating to M, so if you're not into smut or sex scenes you may want to skip this chapter after they leave the great hall. First attempt at this kind of writing so reviews are appreciated!**

A SECOND CHANCE

Though Sansa had told Tyrion that she didn't want a feast or any other grandiose celebration for their wedding, she had to admit that the girl inside of her was giddy when she and her husband were announced into the great hall of Winterfell. Tiny candles had been lit throughout the large room, giving place to a fairy-like atmosphere. Musicians played softly in a corner and, much to her surprise; Tyrion guided her to the middle of the room to pull her into a dance. It took a few moments to figure out a rhythm, but with her hands on his shoulders and his on her waist, they managed to have the first dance she'd always dreamed of. When the song ended, too soon, Sansa leaned down and kissed her husband, heart bursting with joy. Despite his name and his family's history, their Lady's happiness was so evident that the entire room burst into cheers and applause.

The feast was modest but the food was good. The newlyweds spent more time whispering to each other and stealing kisses than they did eating, but both appreciated the immense effort that had gone into the evening. Sansa danced with Jon and Podrick, while Tyrion received some words of blessing and warnings from Arya and Brienne. By the end of the night, Sansa's feet were bursting out of her boots and Tyrion was exhausted. Thankfully, the Northmen wedding customs did not include a bedding ceremony, but when it was announced that the bride and groom would be retiring, snow was thrown into the air around them as they exited the hall.

They all but ran to Sansa's chambers. Tyrion had packed a small trunk of clothing and books for the next couple of days until the rest of the belongings he'd brought with him from Dragonstone could be moved into their room. Once the door was safely shut, Sansa collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Tyrion laughed and went to pour them each a goblet of wine. He smiled at the parallel between their first wedding night and their second. That night, he'd gotten as drunk as possible and had unwittingly brought shame to them both. This time, he'd had no need to drink. He wanted to remember every second.

Both goblets in hand, Tyrion made his way over to the large feather bed where Sansa had finally sat up, watching him. He handed her the cups and crawled into the bed beside her. "Thank you, husband." She said, smiling into her goblet. She drained her cup in one swift motion and placed the empty goblet on the bedside table. He snorted and smiled, draining his own. "You're welcome, wife."

Sansa laid down, her head against her pillow, and she studied her husband. "That was… more than I ever dreamed of. "She said wistfully. "I'm almost sorry that it's over." Laying down next to his wife and taking her hands in his, he nodded. "The people of the North must truly adore you to have pulled this together in such a short time. I have to say that you were a vision in a dream when you walked towards me in the godwood."

She blushed a little at the compliment. Sitting up, she pointed to her very intricate hair. "I'm glad it had the desired reaction, but I have a headache. Would you mind?" He helped her take all the pins out and slowly combed the braids out with his fingers. He could play with her hair all night if she let him. The lemony smell and soft feel had a hypnotizing effect. When her hair was finally free from its confines, she looked over her shoulder and right into his eyes.

"I'm only _almost_ sorry that it's over." She said, her eyes darkening. Taking her meaning, Tyrion cupped her face with his right hand and planted a delicate kiss on her lips, pulling away before she could deepen it. "You're sure?" She simply nodded and pulled him back to her. They laid that way for the better part of a quarter hour, kissing and whispering sweet words to each other when Sansa reluctantly pulled away. "I received a wedding gift that I thought you might enjoy." The look in her eyes when she said it nearly finished him off right then. He gulped hard and smiled nervously. _That's a first._

"I'll go get it in my solar if you want to… prepare?" she said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. He took her meaning well enough. When she disappeared from view, a parcel wrapped in her hands, he got to work. He blew out all the candles in the room save for the one on her bedside table and the small fire in the hearth. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he undressed quickly, placing his clothing on top of his small chest, and crawled into bed. He lay propped up on the pillows for a couple of minutes when she stepped out of the solar.

He stopped breathing as he took in the statuesque auburn-haired beauty who stood, almost shyly now, at the entrance to her solar. She wore a white silken night gown trimmed with the same lace that had been on the bodice of her wedding dress. It fell to her ankles and had a slit going up the left leg up to her waist. The top had cap sleeves made of the same lace which joined below her collar bone and down between her breasts. It was clear that there was no corset or smallclothes underneath it.

She didn't take her eyes off him as she slowly walked towards the bed. Voice husky, she asked: "I do hope that I please you my Lord." With the last word she'd reached the bed and climbed over the covers, giving him a good view of this wedding gift that she received. _I need to remember to ask her who gifted her this and thank them with a thousand golden dragons._ He sat up straight in the bed and grabbed her face, pulling her down into the bed beside him and kissing her with fervor.

His hands explored the soft silk-covered body of his wife, gently moving them down the her neck, her shoulders, and her arms. He broke the kiss for a moment, a question on his face. She nodded and pulled him back to her. He cupped her right breast and squeezed slowly, causing her breath to hitch and a barely audible moan to pass her lips. He could feel the scars below the silk and on her arms but they didn't seem to bother her. Not tonight.

Sansa ran her fingers through Tyrion's hair for a while, unsure of where to go from there. As though he could read her mind he took one of her hands and placed it on his chest. This simple act was enough to break through her remaining barriers. She ran her hands down his chest, his back, his shoulders… She could feel that heavy, hot sensation building between her legs and in her lower abdomen. She knew this would be different.

Tyrion had planned to give attention to all her parts, to have her experience the heights of pleasure that he knew he could bring her. Their bodies had other plans, though. He could feel her arousal growing fast and his body responded in kind. Unable to hold back, he pulled away from their embrace and pulled her silk gown off her body in one swift motion. They looked at each other for half a minute, drinking each other's bodies in.

Like a crack of lightning, they collided together again passionately, both desperately needing the other and letting their bodies take over. He pushed her gently on to the mattress on her back and he climbed between her legs. Leaning over as far as his stunted shape would allow, he continued to kiss her lips as she moaned and held his head securely in place.

His erection was throbbing almost painfully and he broke the embrace again, looking at her for permission. She whispered, "Yes!" and he teased her entrance with his manhood, making sure she that was ready. She was so wet and her hips were thrusting in anticipation. He steeled his arms on either side of her hips and thrust into her deeply. She immediately responded. Her arms found their way to his shoulders and she met him thrust for thrust. Both of their eyes had closed at the feeling of ecstasy in the first few movements, yet they locked eyes at the same time, both slowing down their movements, both wanting to make this last.

She kept her eyes locked on his as he moved inside her; she could feel the tense feeling in her womanhood building. She didn't want it to end, not yet. She stopped him with a hand on his chest. Confused, he pulled out and waited. "Sit." She ordered, pointing to the spot on the bed beside her. Smiling, he obeyed, sitting with his legs in front of him, his erection standing tall. She moved on top of him, slowly guiding him back inside of her folds. She didn't move for a moment, wanting to savour the sensation. She wanted to be at the same level as him, face to face when their first time was over.

Slowly she started moving her hips up and down, thrusting faster and faster, harder and harder, never breaking eye contact until the tension broke inside her and she was overwhelmed with the most blissful feeling she'd ever felt in her life. _So this is what it's supposed to feel like. _She'd stopped moving as the waves hit her and her eyes had closed, head tilted up to the ceiling. The view of his wife in this position was all it took for him to reach his climax as well. They moaned together and Sansa collapsed on top of him, forcing him back down to the mattress. She rolled onto her side when they fell, not breaking their carnal connection.

He was still inside her when they finally opened their eyes and looked at each other, nose to nose. Smiling, Sansa closed the small gap and kissed him once deeply. "I love you Tyrion." He smiled earnestly then and kissed her back. "You have no idea how many times I've dreamt of this. Sansa you must know how I love you." Their kissing stirred up Tyrion's recently flaccid member, and they made love again. This time more slowly, enjoying every touch, the urgency of their basal desires quelled for the time being.

They laid in bed together, Sansa's head nestled in the crook of Tyrion's arm, his left arm stroking her right, which was spread across his chest. "Is it always like this?" She asked, amazed. He snorted a little. "Well, that's a difficult question." She propped herself on an elbow, eyeing him suspiciously. "Chose your next words carefully, husband." She teased. He mimicked her position and continued. "Well… The basic act is the same, barring creative positions" he waved a hand before she could ask, "we'll get to that, don't worry" he winked, "but this was different than every other time for me." Seeing she wasn't satisfied with that answer, he sighed. "I've only ever had women in my bed who were paid to be there. Even when I thought I was in love, they were just very good actors. Tonight, here with you… I can't fully describe the feeling." He finished lamely.

"I understand." She started. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about my past experiences…" a shadow crossed her face. "He cupped her chin softly and forced her to look at him. "Your burdens are mine to bear." With a sigh, Sansa continued.

"Ramsay used to play this trick on people. He'd done it to Theon a few times and he'd tried to do it with me." Steeling herself with a breath and looking down at her hands, she continued. "Some evenings he would send some ladies to draw me a bath and dress me in a beautiful new gown and he would invite me to dine with him. The first time I was suspicious, it was about a week after we were wed, but he apologized for the way he'd treated me and begged for my forgiveness. I was in no position to turn him down so I accepted. After dinner he brought me back to my cell of a bedroom. I naively thought that with his apology would come a night free of my _wifely duties._ I was wrong. He'd undressed me and had me lie down but still, it wasn't like the first few times so I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't, that time. He hadn't been careful, exactly, but he hadn't tried to hurt me. It didn't feel terrible and I felt sick for feeling anything resembling pleasure at his hand. When he'd finished he kissed me softly and told me to sleep well. Just as I was falling asleep he came back, called me a stupid bitch and resumed with his torture…"

Tyrion stayed perfectly still as she spoke, but when she stopped her placed his left hand on hers, urging her to continue. "I suppose what I'm trying to say, is that even when it felt… good, it does not come close to what we just shared." She raised her tear-filled eyes to his. "I never knew my body, my heart could feel this… _alive_." He let a tear fall before he collected her into his arms again, knowing that neither had any words left on that topic.

She felt better for having opened up to him. Her soul felt lighter for it.


End file.
